Don't Teach Your Kids to Cook

At an early age, I learned how to cook. It was a necessity for me. My sister and I were latchkey kids. More days than not, we were alone for most of the day, and we needed to eat. I learned it from my dad, mom, and grandparents. 

My grandfather was a saucier. His recipe repertoire was legendary. I remember watching him for hours on end. My grandmother was also an amazing cook. The smells from her kitchen were mesmerizing. I can still smell them in my head. Try as I may, I could never replicate anything she made. I am pretty sure she used witchcraft in her cooking. I make everything the same way she did, but it never tastes the same. I believe a little magical potion must have been hidden in her cupboard. 

She’s been gone for a long time, and so has my grandfather. They buried all their secrets with them. 

My dad started letting me cook when I was in second grade. I had a platform in front of the stove, and I would stand on it to reach the burners. I knew how to make the usual foods we ate. Tomato sauce, chicken and rice, turkey, and chicken and beef dishes were all part of my list of recipes. I learned them from scratch and never had a recipe. I’d watch and make a dish myself, and that was all I needed to know to replicate it for the rest of my life. 

My parents taught me to be cautious to avoid injury and to clean as I cooked, so I would naturally have a larger mess to clean up later. I was good at it. 

My family has always been open to new foods. My dad’s side of the family is all Italian, and Italians eat. We eat well, too. Food and the kitchen are central to who we are. We love feeding people and preparing large communal meals. We love it when our guests are full and satisfied. It is our badge of honor, so to speak. Food, good food, is a love language. 

Every important event in life happens in the kitchen. That’s how we roll. 

I carried that into adulthood. I kept my love for cooking and feeding people. As our son grew up, I cooked for teams, clubs, youth groups, and even mission teams. In every activity my son was involved in, the people involved ate well. I cooked for them all. I am a superb cook. 

As our son grew up, I made an intentional decision to teach him that skill. There are many reasons for that, actually.

When your kids go off to college and later begin their adulting, you want them to be self-sustaining and able to take care of themselves. At least, I think you do. I did. I never wanted my son to go off to school and have to eat cafeteria or fast food. That stuff will kill you. I taught him to cook frugally so he could have multiple meals for the price of one restaurant dinner. I shared all my talents with him. When he went away to school, he cooked and fed his housemates. Often, when he lived at home, I thought he didn’t enjoy cooking. I was wrong. He is carrying the torch onward. 

My son is twenty now. He recently graduated, and a company offered him a job right out of school. The job was in another state. I can’t talk about it. I am still heartbroken. 

At 19, our baby was packing up everything he had accumulated and setting up his own home in Colorado. I was worried sick he would starve without Mom’s cooking. Nope. That didn’t happen. 

A few weeks into his new life, my only son called me to ask about a couple of recipes he wanted to make. He mentioned a couple of his favorites. I sent him ingredient lists and amounts, along with specific quantities and simple instructions for preparing them. 

He set out to do the task. He wanted to save money and not eat out much, and I can’t blame him. You’ll starve on the price of groceries these days. He also wanted to meal prep lunches for work and needed the amounts for multiple batches of a dish or larger quantities. In Colorado, altitude changes everything, and that had to be explained to him as well. I ruined many a dish when I first moved there, not knowing the adjustments needed. Water boils at a lower temperature, leavening behaves differently, and cooking times change. Baking is also different. 

So here I was, in my studio, drawing one evening, when I saw a call come through on my cell. It was the sunshine of my day calling me, as he does each day. 

We made small talk, and then I asked him about his day. He told me about his job. Then it came. The words I never thought I would hear. “Mom. I made the sauce you told me to make.” 

“Yes, and?” “How did it come out?” 

“It came out great!” “Mine tastes better than yours.”

Hold the phone! Did he just say what I heard him say? Did he make food better than I do? No way. No how. I taught him everything he knows. That’s not possible. But apparently it is. 

He has learned to be experimental. I taught him not to be afraid to add or remove ingredients he had on hand, or to substitute new items for what he lacked. And he listened. 

So, the pupil is now the teacher. He knows better than I do. He is better than I am in the kitchen. Humph. Never saw that coming. 

My dad used to have a quaint saying whose meaning I still don’t understand. 

“You give them life, raise them, protect them, provide for them, and teach them. And what do they do? They eat the teacher!” I am fairly certain it has something to do with the current situation. I taught him everything he knows, and now he knows more. He has surpassed my talents. I have been dethroned. The stinker still has a lot to learn. He just doesn’t know it yet. 

I am about to spend some time with him while we are on vacation there. I fully intend to show him up. He still has knife skills to learn, and I am going to dazzle him with mine. That should humble the smarty-pants. 

All kidding aside, I am proud of him. He makes decisions and tries things on his own. He is adventurous in the kitchen, as he is in life. I am happy for him. But no matter what he thinks, I am the better cook. I feel a cookout coming. 

So, the moral of my story is: Don’t teach them how to cook, because those smug little ankle-biters will think they are the kings of the kitchen, and the throne is not built for two. I plan to shove his little butt off my chair. 

#parents #parenting #parentingtips #cooking #food #life #lifelessons #teaching #family #humility #humor #satire #everyone